Circus Revenge
by Inudaughter Returns
Summary: Helga gets stuck learning juggling in exchange for a passing grade. But will she survive an encounter with angry midget clowns? The theme of this story is trust.
1. Chapter 1

**All my Hey Arnold stories except for the parody fall into a chronological order. To see where this story falls in my "Hey Arnold: The Fanfic Season", then please read my profile. The weirdness of this story boggles my own mind, but here we go!**

Cars were busy roaring down the streets of Hillwood during yet another rushed hour in the city. But the students of the neighborhood hardly paid attention to the traffic nearby, just outside their chain link fence borders. Most of them had been urbanites their whole life, so the constant presence and sound of cars in the background hardly meant much more to them than the chirping of the few city surviving birds.

"Okay, class!" said Mr. Simmons to his class who were lined up in a broad circle in the rear playground of P.S. 118. He clapped his hands together with exuberation. "Now today, I want all of us to do something, really, extra special! As our group project, I'd like for us all to do trust exercises to motivate us and connect each student with their fellow students. Isn't that just great?!" said Mr. Simmons knotting his hands up into fists and biting his bottom lip to keep his grin from turning to an outright whoop of zeal. Eugene threw his hands up in the air like he was riding a roller coaster. Sheena smiled softly. But other students of his class were not so easily convinced. Harold frowned, studying Mr. Simmons with his beady eyes.

"Yeah, right!" said Sid in the vein of sarcasm, his arms folded together. Stinky Peterson blinked, thinking it over slowly.

"Yeah, like Sid said," the tall boy decided finally. "What is it y'all expect us to do? I don't wanna be embarrassed or nothin."

"It's probably gonna be some touchy-feely, mumbo-jumbo!" Harold complained almost on the verge of rage and panic. But Mr. Simmons continued to smile, unfazed.

"Trust exercises are nothing to be ashamed about. But if you really feel that way, Sid, your participation is voluntary, alright? Now, let me explain the first exercise. Everyone, stand next to someone you think you 'trust' and hold hands. Then, on the count of three, everyone in the center lean as far forward as far as is possible. That means you Arnold, Gerald, Eugene, and Sid. Everyone on the ends, try to keep the ones in the center from falling forward. Lean back slightly if you have to."

"Like this?!" said Eugene flopping forward. Gerald and Sid struggled to keep themselves from being yanked off their toes by Eugene's sudden, purposed collapse. Student's hands grabbed out, first Gerald's for Arnold's, then Arnold's for Stinky's and so on, until the chain reached Harold and then keeping Eugene from falling facedown onto the pavement wasn't so difficult.

"Good!" said Mr. Simmons directing. "Now, stand on your tiptoes and lean forward if you can. See if it's possible."

"You have to lean, Sid," said Arnold sagging slightly forward.

"Are you crazy?!" asked Sid.

"Oh wait!" said Mr. Simmons. "I forgot. This exercise is supposed to be done in a room with a mat in case of falls." At hearing this, Harold got a confused look on his face. He let go of Stinky's hand and Arnold, Gerald, Eugene, and Sid all fell over.

"Ow, my nose!" Sid complained rubbing it.

"Well, that inspires confidence, teach," Helga uttered to Phoebe as her best friend silently frowned.

"Sorry, sorry!" said Mr. Simmons. "Don't worry class! The next trust exercise I want for us to do is much safer! I have this parachute here," said Mr. Simmons, "and what I what for you to all do is lift it up above your heads as far as it will go, then bring it down again. Do this for a minute, and then, when I say, 'everybody under the tent', everyone should pull the edge over their heads and sit down on it, okay? It'll be neat!"

"Yeah, right!" grumbled Sid. But even he had to grin as the parachute lifted high above them, then being pulled down, caught air in the middle so that it made a tent. The center of the parachute stayed high for some time before the air they had caught managed to escape and the parachute fell to the floor again. The kids began to bounce around, throwing the sheet high and then trying to drag it low again against the resistance of air.

"Okay! Everybody under the tent!" declared Mr. Simmons. Helga, like the other kids, scooted the red and orange and yellow striped parachute over her head and sat down on one of the stripes. The air was caught on all sides as the students unanimously sat and the tent overhead seemed high and bright with the sunlight coming in through the other side of the thin, semi transparent cloth. Almost mesmerized, Helga watched the roof slowly sag and collapse.

"All right, everybody out!" said Mr. Simmons and everyone stood up, shuffling out of the tent as the fabric fell. Eugene was last to get out and so the parachute collapsed completely on the boy.

"Help!" said the boy trying to get out in the wrong direction. Sheena had to fish the poor boy out.

"Okay class," said Mr. Simmons slightly tense that not everything was working out as smoothly as planned. "For our last trust exercise I'd like for us to do a classic! The 'trust fall'!"

"Whazzit, whoozit?" asked Helga. "That seems a contradiction in terms."

"Oh, it isn't Helga!" said Mr. Simmons. "You'll see!" He led them to a really tall wooden crate with a ladder opened at its side. "Now what I need everyone to do is to stand right there in front of this crate as tightly as you can! Then hold your arms out in front of you like this!" Mr. Simmons demonstrated by sticking both arms out in front of him, palms up. "You are going to catch one of you fellow students as they fall from this crate!"

"Gawsh! You mean way up there?!" said Stinky examining the tall crate.

"You have nothing to worry about Stinky!" their teacher declared with his most soothing of voices. "Everyone in the class will work together and catch their fellow classmate. I have no doubt that if you 'trust' your fellow students," said Mr. Simmons making quotation symbols with his hands again, "then your peers will catch you as you fall and prove that if you all work together, astonishing things will happen! Now, who wants to go first? Phoebe, how about you? You're lightest! You would make a good start."

"Me?!" Phoebe sputtered, her hands splayed out against the front of her chest as she gaped.

"Yes, Phoebe," Mr. Simmons reiterated. "Now climb up that ladder to start! When you reach the top, turn around so that you are facing away from your fellow classmates."

"Okay," said Phoebe moving as slowly as possible first toward the ladder and then up it. She turned and paused at the top of the large crate just as instructed.

"Now Phoebe, back up so that your heels are just at the edge of the crate. Fold your arms over your chest like this, tuck your chin against your chest, and count to three. On the count of 'three', lean back as far as you can go and fall. Your classmates will catch you, I promise." Phoebe gulped.

"Well, here goes," said Phoebe. She did just as Mr Simmons said, scooting to the platform's edge and fearfully, she dropped off it into a sea of arms and hands. A rather startled Phoebe found herself laying down rather comfily until some of the hands holding her upright lowered her feet and she could reorient herself to the ground again.

"That was so cool!" said Rhonda, looking alert and keen. "It was like- when the singer of a rock concert throws himself off the stage into the audience or something!"

"Rhonda?" asked Mr. Simmons picking up on her interest. "Do you want to try next?"

"Sure," the girl said with a shrug. Jogging over to the ladder, Rhonda scrambled up it , then threw herself joyfully into the waiting hands of her classmates.

"Me next!" said Gerald.

"No, me!" complained Sid. Before too long, all of the school children of Mr. Simmons class had gone except for Harold and Helga.

"Oh! Me next!" said Harold. All the students flinched, then ran away to the other side of the playground.

"Actually, how about Helga goes next?" said Mr. Simmons said with a weak grin. "Helga?"

"Um, I'm really not interested in your little 'trust exercises'!" Helga sniffed, turning her back on the crowd."

"Oh come on, Helga!" Rhonda announced dismissively flicking her red-painted nails downwards as she jaunted her hip. "You don't have to be scared. We'll catch you!"

"You're scared?!" Harold questioned, then laughed. "Ah, Helga's chicken!" The round boy clutched his stomach and laughed a few times more before Helga shoved her flat palm against Harold's shirt front, knocking some of the wind out of him so that his laughs were interrupted.

"I'm not chicken!" Helga sneered. "Just watch!" And with that, she marched her little white shoes all the way up the ladder. But as she stood on the edge of the crate looking down at the hands poised to catch her, she realized something. She was scared. Terrified actually.

"Fall, fall, fall!" her classmates chanted.

"Come on, Helga, we'll catch you! We promise!" Gerald spoke for his fellow classmates. Helga turned around and folded her arms, willing herself to try. But she couldn't. Fear paralyzed her and with a sudden snap, she whirled back around.

"No, no, no!" Helga shouted, her fists knotted at either side. "I'm not gonna do it! It's stupid!"

"Come on, Helga!" Sheena mumbled quietly. "We all did it! You can too!"

"No, I can't! I won't!" Helga muttered, shaking her head in wild eyed fear. Down on the ground, Arnold blinked up at Helga as he saw something he had seen from time to time- her panicked, frenzied self. Like the time they had gotten stuck in the subway, her strong edifice had crumbled revealing only terror. But while Helga had not been watching carefully, Harold had snuck up behind and with a wicked grin, he shoved Helga off the crate into the waiting crowd.

"Eeek! Awk! Elp!" Helga complained waving her arms around. She had been caught by her classmates after all but not as planned. "Let me down, you clods!" she hissed. Arnold, Sid, Gerald, Stinky, Rhonda, and Sheena set her down on the ground. Eugene gave Helga a thumbs up but Helga only fluffed the hair the that come loose back out of her face as she seethed.

"Humph!" she said before posturing angrily, slumped forward.

"Class, class!" said Mr. Simmons trying to call the rowdy group in order. "That's enough! Now I think we should all return to the classroom and write one paragraph about what we have learned. Go on now!" said Mr. Simmons pointing in the direction of the classroom.

"A whole paragraph," Harold muttered grumpily since he hated almost all schoolwork.

"Helga," Mr. Simmons spoke up before all the class could leave. "I'd like for you to stay here with me for a few minutes. There's something I'd like to discuss." Wide-eyed, Helga waited for Mr. Simmons to explain himself. When the rear door to P.S. 118 swung shut behind the last of the other students, he did.

"Helga," began Mr. Simmons. "It doesn't affect your grade or anything, but today you failed to participate in the trust exercises. Harold shouldn't have shoved you like that, yes, but I'm concerned Helga. There's a general trend I'm concerned by- your lack of trust in other people. To be frank, the reason why I wanted to hold trust exercises this morning is because of you. I wanted you to have the chance to open a little. You know, Helga, in every group project we've done this year you've got a D for your participation. Sometimes you refuse to work with another partner at all and complete a project by yourself. If it's with Phoebe, you let her do all the work for you. Now why is that, Helga?"

"Um, Phoebe's so much smarter than me?" Helga mumbled. "I figured she'd be better at it anyway?"

"That makes sense with Phoebe," said Mr. Simmons. "But when I partnered you with Rhonda, the two of you turned in two separate projects instead of the one I had asked for. Now why is that?"

"Um, I'm not a people person?" asked Helga.

"Exactly!" said Mr. Simmons. "And that is what, as your teacher I hope to change! I hope you will learn new skills to be better able to cooperate with others. At the very least, I hope you will feel comfortable enough to be more open. For the entire time you've been my student, Helga, you've written beautiful poetry for English class. But every time you turn it in, you sign your poems as 'anonymous'. I'd like for you to, just once, feel brave enough and proud enough of yourself to turn in just one poem with your real name on it for the class to read."

"I can't do that Mr. Simmons!" Helga protested, the words blurting out of her. "I don't want anybody to know! My poems are secret."

"Well, Helga," said Mr. Simmons looking down at his student patiently. "I'd like to know in your own words why. Why can't you write a poem for others to read?"

"Because my poems are stupid," said Helga awkwardly. "People might laugh at me."

"Helga, no one is going to laugh at you!" Mr. Simmons disagreed with his usual happy-go-lucky enthusiasm. "Even if they did, your poems would still be beautiful and creative expressions of you! And I think that's very special."

"I don't want anyone else to read my poems," Helga ground out stubbornly.

"Well, if that's how you really feel, I hope that at least you'll consider letting at least one other person read your poetry. Maybe you could work up your courage and confidence by sharing your poems with say, your best friend Phoebe! She could use a mentor in poetry."

"Maybe," Helga said dismally.

"Well, that's all I had to say to you, Helga. You've got a lot to think about. I hope that someday we'll find a way to make you feel more at home in the classroom."

"Whatever," Helga groused before shuffling back inside, her face burning slightly for having been particularly singled out as the most unfriendly, most uncooperative member of their class. But there was little she could do about it. She was already in a constant fight between her nature and the social demands of modern society. As Helga stomped back into the classroom, some of her nerve returning to her face along with her color, Arnold looked up from his desk. He watched Helga take her customary place in the desk directly behind him. Then Arnold leaned back, one arm propped against the rear of his chair to get a good look at her.

"Are you alright?" asked Arnold kindly. "What were you and Mr. Simmons talking about?"

"Oh, granola boy just wanted to ask me to get along with all the kiddies better," Helga announced with biting sarcasm and slumping low in her chair, her feet slid low on the carpet floor as she tapped her thumb with the tip of a pencil at the staccato of Morse code. "He asked me to 'consider' sharing my poems with others."

"Your poetry?" said Arnold slightly flustered, for at this point he knew all of Helga's poems were about him. "Well, I wouldn't mind it if you shared a few poems with me! You know, since I returned the pink book and everything."

"Shh!" said Helga so anxious that she placed her palm against Arnold's face to shush him before she realized her mistake. Both kids blushed. She pulled her hand away again.

"Just don't mention that kind of thing in public, okay?!" Helga pleaded, her panic calming. "Besides, you wouldn't like my poems anyway. They're stupid."

"No they're not!" disagreed Arnold. But it was like arguing like a brick wall. One who knew she was behaving badly but couldn't bring herself to behave any better.

"Yes they are! You'd laugh!"

"I won't laugh. I promise!" debated Arnold. But Helga only narrowed her eyes at Arnold.

"Maybe someday. But only when my poems are BETTER," said Helga although she knew the poems currently shared in her class were downright horrible. Hers could not be faulted much in comparison. The two kids might have argued further, but Mr. Simmons had returned to his podium. Class began again.

"Alright class! Turn your textbooks to page 34!" Mr. Simmons instructed.

There something tranquil in returning to the usual, mind-numbing grind of schoolwork. It meant Helga had less to think about, less to feel- that is until the end of the day when she stood on the front steps of P.S.118 at a loss, her books held off to one side as she simply stared absent-mindedly into the distance. So dazed with thought was she, that Helga took one rather wobbly step down the staircase to move with the crowd and found her hand being guided from someone within it. Helga followed the hand's guidance down the flight of steps to its bottom before she came to fully from her daydream, identifying the hand's familiar owner.

"Are you alright?" asked Arnold. "You're acting kind of weird."

"Just tired, I guess. It's been a long day."

"Oh," said Arnold. "In that case, maybe you shouldn't play at Gerald's field with us today. Maybe you should just sit down and watch."

"I'm fine, Arnoldo!" Helga disagreed soundly. "Maybe I'll stop somewhere for a Yahoo first."

"Well, alright," said Arnold, his face full of the tender concern that marked him as so different from his hardened, often compassionless, city-dwelling brethren. "But it's alright for you to take a break if you have to!"

Helga had planned to go to Gerald's field for the afternoon, so she skipped the bus to meet up with their informal, ever changing team. Today, it was Lila, Stinky, Sheena, Sid, Rhonda, Brainy, Harold, Gerald, Arnold. Together, they all strolled down the city block taking up as much space as a car on the sidewalk, their wandering feet flattening the grass that people tried to grow in vain beside the sidewalk. As they passed by a grocer's Helga spoke up.

"Wait up a moment!" she demanded before stepping inside the comfortably air-conditioned store. Her eyes lingered on the bottles in the drink cooler, past all of the grownup drinks until she found the sodas, waters, sugared teas, and juices. She opened the fridge door and yanked a Yahoo out, then snatched a handful of candy bars from the rack. Rapidly browsing, Helga threw the candy, a package of gum, and a stick of beef jerky onto the countertop to go with her soda. A minute later, Helga walked out of the shop carrying a little paper shopping bag.

"Oh! Is that for us?" asked Sid pointing. Helga sneered.

"No, that's my snack," said Helga. "Get your own stuff!" Rummaging through her bag, she yanked out one candy bar and fumbled to peel the wrapper open without dropping the rest of her groceries before biting into the chocolate bar with a vengeance. In five swift bites, the candy bar was devoured and she began unwrapping another one.

"Aw I'm so hungry!" Harold complained clutching his stomach before jogging into the store himself. Soon, everyone else strolled into the shop, including Arnold and Gerald chatting about best friend stuff. Helga was still eating one of her candy bars when Arnold came outside to join her, without Gerald. Helga smacked her sticky lips before throwing a stick of gum into her mouth to chew the rest of the candy off her teeth. She held her unopened soda with one hand, then crumpled up her empty paper bag in the other. Helga chucked it successfully into a trashcan a few feet down the street in a skillful, one-hand shot.

"So, Arnoldo, where's Tall-Hair Boy?" Helga inquired, feeling smug and passive with so much delicious food in her and her favorite boy near by. The start of her day had been crummy, but now she had an afternoon of baseball to look forward to so she was fine.

"Oh, he's inside looking at magazines still," Arnold mumbled.

"That's odd," said Helga. "Usually you two are two peas in a pod. Are you having a fight or something lately? You've been hanging around me a lot."

"No," said Arnold rolling his eyes a little miserably. "It's not like that. He's been hanging around with Phoebe a lot, you know. A lot! So I guess that leaves me on my own sometimes. He's still my best friend and all, he just hasn't had as much time for me lately. When we do hang out, Gerald's always talking about his dates. It's kind of awkward."

"Uh-huh," said Helga rubbing her chin. "Well, you're welcome to hang with me, Football-Head!" said Helga. She twisted off the cap from her Yahoo soda and held it high. "Cheers!"

"Um, cheers?" Arnold questioned clinking the side of his Yahoo soda against hers in a reciprocal gesture that seemed a little out of place. But the two guzzled down their Yahoo sodas anyway. Arnold wiped his lips with the back of his hand, giving Helga something to admire. A dreamy smile touched Helga's face.

"On to Gerald's field!" said Helga pumping a fist into the air as Gerald and the rest of the slowpokes made their way out of the store. The group moved on to where they needed to be.

Arnold tried hard not to think too much on what he had seen today when he arrived home at the boarding house that afternoon, his baseball bat carried over his shoulder. Abner and the other animals scooted out the door as he came in as usual, and Susie was on the phone at the lowest point in the hall. Arnold past by Ernie and Grandpa sitting in the living room. Mr. Kakashka was raiding the fridge and Arnold narrowed his eyes at the nervously laughing man before heading straight upstairs to his bedroom and stuffing his baseball bat into one of the storage cupboards of his room. Then Arnold flopped on his bed for a spell. He turned on his radio, twisted the volume up louder, then with looked up at the poofy sky through his skylight. Arnold was still listening to the local radio jazz station, MJazz, which had also branched off into a country music station, when the dinner bell rang. He sat up in bed and slowly made his way off his bed and out of his room.

Perhaps Helga was not the only quiet one, for Arnold pulled out a chair and sat down at the dinner table without his usual greetings or smiles. He spooned into his mashed potatoes instead, swallowing the warm hot goodness of starch and butter before propping his spoon up and glancing down the long table toward his grandparents.

"Grandma. Grandpa," Arnold said acknowledging everyone around him at last.

"Hey there, Shortman," said Grandpa Phil, a basket of dinner rolls in his hand. "How's the school year going?"

"Long," said Arnold. "We have tests at the end of the month. Either it's my imagination, or they're giving us a lot more homework this year."

"That's nothin'!" said Ernie waving a spoon around so that it splatted potatoes. "You think you've got a lot of homework now, just wait until high school. Then you'll really be in for it!"

"Thanks Mr. Potts," said Arnold with polite sarcasm. "Well, I think tomorrow is going to be better. We have a guest speaker in the auditorium. Then the day after that, it's career day again."

"Oh, pooh," said Mr. Kakashka, "you did that last year!"

"They do it every year," explained Arnold. "I just hope I don't get stuck with the Jolly Olly man again."

"Yeah, well I still think you should go into demolition!" said Ernie buttering a roll then swinging it like it as a wrecking ball into the mashed potatoes on his plate. "Boom! Slam! Just like that and the whole thing comes down!"

"Don't you… listen to Ernie!" said Mr. Hyunh with a slight pause in his speech as he fumbled past his foreign accent. "You go to high school, get married, maybe go to college! Get yourself a good job! Or come work in a restaurant. I can show you how to make a good taco!"

"You'd make a good salesman," Susie reasoned, hunched over her coffee mug, both arms on the table. "You're patient and a good listener. I think you could learn."

"Well, I don't know exactly what I want to do when I grow up," said Arnold, slightly pressured. "But I do have a list of ideas of things I might do. I turned it in at Mr. Simmon's class."

"A deep-sea diver!" declared Grandpa Phil out of the blue. "That's what I wanna be when I grow up! Except what'll I do about all the sharks?" Phil scratched his chin. "Oh wait a minute! I just remembered something!" said the man slapping the side of his head. "I'm retired! All I've got to do is keep up the boarding house! You'll help me with that, won't you Arnold?'

"Yes, Grandpa," said Arnold rolling his eyes at his Grandpa's jokes.

The next day, the guy from "the stay in school, an education is a terrible thing to waste" commercials they played in movie theatres lectured them from the school stage about going to all the way to high school. Harold and Stinky watched from the front row, transfixed. Arnold listened to lecture, but he was bored since he had no inclination to drop out of school in the first place. Nadine and Rhonda passed notes to each other behind him in the auditorium, and Helga chewed half a pack of bubblegum through the whole thing.

But the next day dawned bright and beautiful and full of the promise to be an interesting day. Arnold and Gerald strutted into their school, chatting happily. Sid, Rhonda, Nadine, and Stinky walked by together like a swimming school of fish. Eugene jogged into school, tripping and splatting over his untied shoelace three times in a row before he made it to the door. Lagging behind everyone else, Harold Berman approached the rear doors of P.S. 118 with a toothy smile and one book under his arm. But then, his eyes shifted towards the parking strips for faculty and visitors. These were already mostly filled with visitors for their career day. As Harold watched, a tiny orange and red car whirled up to park in a space right beside Harold. In one of the more bizarre moments in P.S. 118's history, two mean-looking midget clowns stepped out the vehicle and glared toward the elementary school.

"Mommy!" said Harold whirling around and running for his life. It just so happened he recognized those clowns. He had stolen their bike once and been chased for it. The midget clowns were too busy looking up at the school to recognize Harold as he ran away to save his hide. But Helga was not so fortunate. She stared wide-eyed and horrified as the clowns who had once tried to chase her and Harold down for stealing their clown bike strolled right into her classroom amid the other professionals presenting on career day.

"Eei-yah!" Helga managed to stutter out at last with a horrified expression on her face. Gulping down her fright, Helga tried to sink down to hide behind her school desk. But it was too late. The two midget clowns were pointing a finger towards her across the classroom and whispering to each other behind their hands.

"Helga? What's wrong?" Arnold's gentle voice rumbled. But Helga kept hiding under her desk.

"Shh! Football-Head, don't give me away!" Arnold stared at Helga's newest eccentric behavior.

"Now class," said Simmons bringing attention to himself. "I know that last year's career day was a tremendous success and I'd like to repeat all that, but this year it has been decided for administrative reasons to keep things simpler. Yes, yes, don't be sad!" Mr. Simmons reasoning with the moaning students. "We won't be going off the property but you will be assigned a one-on-one mentor. He or she will then help you set up a quote, unquote shop for our first ever business expo! Isn't that exciting?!"

"What's a dang business expo?" asked Stinky blinking.

"Well, usually Stinky," said Mr. Simmons resting one hand on his desk to support his weight as he leaned back on it slightly. "A business expo is place where businesses try to connect with prospective customers, employees, or even try to sell or distribute samples of their product. But for us it means that all of you will be proprietors for a day of your very own business and you can sell or give away things you have made at your booth. Your mentor will help you develop a two sentence business plan and give you mentoring on how to make one product for your booth. For example, Rhonda, Sally from Sally's Chocolates will be instructing you in how to make chocolate to sell."

"That's incredible!" exclaimed Rhonda with an enthused smile. "But hang on a minute. What happened to drawing lots from a hat? You know, to determine our mentor for career day?"

"Oh, well, I'm doing things differently for just this one year. I've already assigned pairs between mentors and students. Helga," said Mr. Simmons giving the pink-dress-wearing girl a wink. "I've got a special mentor for you. Instead of just being paired with one mentor, you and one other student and their mentor will work together in a cooperative project. If you pull this off, Helga, I will promise you a B for classroom participation for this year," said Mr. Simmons winking again. "You and Arnold will be working together with two clowns from McGrunty's Circus to put on a juggling act."

"Are you crazy?!" yelped Helga. "Do you want me to die?!"

"Now, now, Helga," said Mr. Simmons. "Be reasonable. Learning to juggle isn't the worst thing that could happen to you and your friend Arnold will be there to help you along."

"I can't believe you set me up like this," Helga glowered. Here she was, stuck between two homicidal-looking midget clowns with a grudge against her. "Today is just gonna be great," Helga lied intentionally. Her career day had just gone bad, bad, bad!


	2. Chapter 2

Mr. Simmons had set Helga up, that was for certain. Though well intended, he had no idea that the two midget clowns from McGrunty's Circus recognized Helga as a girl whom had stolen their bicycle, along with Harold. All their pleasant natured teacher knew was that Helga was a real challenge to engage in cooperative projects. She didn't do buddywork. She didn't do teamwork, either, unless it was for sports. Yet, he hoped earnestly in a lyrical, fantastic, unicorn-petting optimistic way, that if he paired her with her friend Arnold he would see immediate improvements to her behavior.

But Helga knew herself well enough to know better. Arnold did, too, by now. Football "coaching" and poured paint stood out as examples in Arnold's mind. Helga was independent and dominating- both a flaw and strength to her nature. Dealing with Helga was like operating a tilt-o-whirl with loose screws. It was only a matter of time before the spinning wheel broke loose in an expression of rage, fear, or confusion. In fact, it was all three emotions that filtered across her face now as the two midget clowns, equal in height to herself, crowded her on either side to glare.

"Okay, little lady," said the first. "Your name's Helga is it? I'm Grump McGrunty. That's my brother, Snooty McGrunty."

"Charming," Helga sneered under her breath, just loud enough for Arnold to hear as he stood beside Helga in the classroom. A look of confusion spread across the boy's face, for both Helga and the clowns were engaged in a hostile stare-down.

"It's nice to meet you," said Arnold offering his hand politely for a handshake.

"Yeah, sure kid," said Snooty McGrunty. He gave Arnold a forced handshake but did not crack a smile at the boy. He and his brother were still busy staring angrily at Helga. "Let's all go into the gym, shall we? There's more room in there. Wouldn't want to hit one of the other kiddos, would we? Except that fat one," said Grump McGrunty in a half whisper. His brother nodded in agreement and Helga flinched. She knew exactly which kid it was they meant by the "fat one". That would be Harold, and it meant they remembered the night she and Harold had stolen their clown bike, alright.

Like doomsday, Helga filed into the gym behind Arnold, her gait and shoulder so stiff she might have been in a zombie apocalypse movie. She clenched her teeth tight together. But fear faded, and the angry pout returned when Grump McGrunty turned around to speak.

"Okay, Little Lady. "Let's start by clearing the air here. We know what you and your fat friend did. You stole out clown bike for kicks."

"Tsch!" sputtered Helga. She turned her head to the wall with a sniff. "Who said it was me? Could be you confused me for another girl."

"It was you, alright!" Grump McGrunty said jabbing his meaty finger in her direction. "But for the sake of your teacher and our little apprenticeship here, we'll let that go. For now."

"Helga," Arnold said softly and alarmed. "What is he talking about?" Helga grit her teeth. She could lie to strangers. But she could not lie to Arnold. Not him, not now when he was gauging her with his moralistic stare.

"I...I… Well, it's a funny story, Arnold. It's like this, see? Remember when Harold and I got left behind at the chocolate factory at the school field trip? Well, Harold," Helga said, slurring Harold's name heavily to put the blame firmly on the boy, "got this brainiac idea that we should steal a bicycle to get back to the city. We were stranded in the the middle of nowhere! I just couldn't convince Harold it was a dumb idea!"

"Helga," said Arnold, his eyes flat and half-lidded as his face showed a trace of disappointment. "No one can make you do something you don't want to do. Not even Harold."

"Okay, okay! So I'm guilty, too, alright!" said Helga, waving her hands over head in surrender as she confessed. "I just really wanted to make it to Wrestlemania. I had those tickets for months! And it was late. And was getting dark soon. And I didn't want to be eaten alive by coyotes," said Helga winding down feeling awkward and shamed. "Okay, so I shouldn't have gone along with Harold's suggestion. I'm sorry, okay? Sorry!" Helga huffed before falling silent to await judgement, but most especially from Arnold.

"Tickets to Wrestlemania, huh?" said Grump McGrunty rubbing his chin in thought. "Well, they do put on a good show. We'll forgive you this once, kid, but don't think for a second I'll let you steal from the circus again. No even one streamer, ya got that? Good!" said Grump McGrunty growing complacent.

"Say, girl?" Snooty McGrunty asked out loud in a chipmunk-cartoon-like voice. "Why didn't you and your friend just ask for help? Kids get lost at the circus all the time. Some parents even dump their kids off like we're a babysitting service. We deal with it all the time. I could have given ya'll a ride home in my clown car." Helga stared. The thought of asking for help had never occurred to her. She was stunned.

"I... I dunno!" Helga sputtered rubbing the back of her neck with one hand. "I kind of thought it was something I had to do all by myself. Get home, I mean. There was no one else."

"Because we were strangers?" asked Snooty.

"That's putting it mildly," said Helga. There were strangers. And then there were really strange strangers. Like midget clowns.

"Look, kid," said Grump McGrunty.

"It's Helga," the girl in the pink dress corrected.

"Right. Helga. Well girl, your teacher is spot-on about you having trust issues but you're going to have to get over all that to be part of this team!" said Grump McGrunty gesturing towards Arnold and his brother Sooty. "This is Circus P.S. 118 now! And if we're going to put on a great show, you're going to have to get it together!"

"Pff!" said Helga, her eyes narrowing. "I'm just fine how I am. I don't need a lecture from midget clowns!"

"Helga," Arnold uttered, interrupting before things could turn ugly again. "You could at least try to learn juggling. It won't be so bad. I can help you practice. I know a little bit myself."

"You do, huh?" said Grump McGrunty examining Arnold. "Show us what you've got, kid!"

"Alright," said Arnold a little tense himself. He waited patiently for Snooty McGrunty to fish a few hand passing clubs from a trunk. They looked a bit like bowling pins, only smaller. Arnold tossed two easily, then a third. After all, he and Gerald could put on an act that was downright uncannily good (see the original show's episode "Partners").

"Not bad for a beginner," Snooty observed.

"Not bad? I thought that was pretty good!" Helga protested. Arnold smiled faintly. Helga had almost given him a compliment for a change.

"The real pros can juggle up to six," Snooty countered. "A few even seven for a bit. But mostly the number to use is four. Only we're not asking for that much."

"I can't possibly do what Arnold just did," said Helga giving her head a turn. "I'm not good at things like that. I'm not that 'coordinated'," said Helga looking to dig up excuses for getting out of it.

"Oh, come on Helga!" said Arnold in his coaxing voice. "You catch baseballs all the time. You're a really good catcher when we play baseball. I know you can do this if you try."

"Let's start off by having you help your little friend," said Grump McGrunty musing. "You hold the pins and hand them off to him one by one when he asks. Arnold you nod when you want a new pin, okay?"

"Sure," said Arnold. He nodded once. Helga handed the pin to him like she was passing a note or a key. McGrunty slapped himself in the face.

"No, no, not like that!" he objected. "You've got to stand a few feet opposite from one another and toss the pin to Arnold!"

"You said hand it off!" Helga argued. "So I did!"

"Just forget what I said then," said Grump McGrunty. "Watch Snooty and me for a few seconds. You'll see." He and his brother took the pins away and deftly demonstrated. "There, now you see? Keep that up until you get the hang off it." Helga was silent for quite a while. She focused on lobbing the clubs Arnold's way so that her throws were steady and not wildly veering. They wound up in the roughly the same space of air every time and McGrunty crossed his arms and grunted his satisfaction.

"Good," said the midget clown. "Now you need to learn to juggle yourself. Arnold, give two of those clubs to your little friend there." Helga tensed. She tried to follow the midget clown's directions but her second pin kept dropping to the floor. Helga snapped finally. She threw the remaining pin across the room in a large arc.

That arc headed straight for Eugene who was practicing choreography with a dance instructor. The pin rocketed straight down to collide with Eugene's head. "Ow" the boy said as he was struck by the hand club in the far distance. Nobody noticed.

"This is impossible!" Helga whined. "I can't keep them up for even a full minute!"

"To be able to keep them up at all is something," said McGrunty sternly. "Keep practicing."

"Okay, okay," said Helga clearly bugged by all this. "I'm trying, alright?"

"Well, you need to keep practicing on your own time," Grump McGrunty directed. "We've got to work on our routine. Since wonderboy here is the lead act, you stand still, Helga. Stand absolutely still except for your juggling! Try to keep juggling. Arnold, can you walk while you juggle?"

"Maybe?" said the boy doubting himself. He took a few paces forward and found that he could.

"Great! Now you walk around Helga in a wide circle. That will make your juggling look fancier than it actually is."

"What now?" asked Arnold for it was comparatively easy to do.

"Now we take the hand clubs from the rookie here and give her this to wave!" McGrunty handed Helga a long cloth streamer on a white stick. It trailed through the air like an unbound ribbon. "Get down on the ground and wave it around. Simple."

"Sheesh," Helga sulked before sitting on the ground in a splitz. She cracked the end of the streamer like a whip then spun it in the air around her head. The brothers looked more pleased by this performance. It was a lot better than Helga's horrible juggling, at least.

"Okay, you stand right over there!" said Grump McGrunty pointing. "Wait for us, then start passing!"

"Okay," said Arnold wondering. He waited to one side of Helga while the midget clowns went to the other side of Helga. Snooty climbed on top of Grump's shoulders to stand on them and the two brothers both juggled. Then Snooty passed the pins over Helga's head to Arnold, back and forth, at a slow pace. Helga grit her teeth.

"Hey, watch it that you don't drop one of those, bucko! And don't you go beaning me, either, scud!" she scolded Arnold.

"I won't!" the boy scowled back, his ego bruised and eyes narrowed the tiniest of bit. But Arnold's eyes grew humble again when he did miss-aim one of his throws because he was arguing with Helga. It flashed past Helga, whistling through the air near her so that she panicked. Then it struck Eugene in the far distance again, who was just now getting up from the time Helga had got him with her pin.

"Ow," Eugene said going down for a second time. This time, everybody gathered in a circle around Eugene to stare.

"Nice going, Arnoldo!" Helga declared folding her arms together as she posed. Arnold cracked a nervous, apologetic grin.

"Maybe we both need a little practice," the golden-haired boy acknowledged. The school bell rang.

"Well, that's all the time we have for today," said Snooty McGrunty taking the pins from Arnold to pack them back into their trunk. "Our business motto for school fair will be, 'the show must go on'."

"Cliché," said Helga leaning one hand against her waist but approving with a slanted look. Somehow she remembered those words from somewhere. Then she realized she herself had used them during the play "The Four Food Groups" which Gerald and Arnold had almost messed up completely. Wholeheartedly, Helga agreed with the motto.

"If you two want a little extra-credit, then come by McGrunty's Circus after school tomorrow. Take the subway to Lincoln. You'll find us a mile up the road from there. We'll introduce you to some real performers! Give you a little behind-the-scenes tour so you see what we do for a living."

"Sounds great," said Arnold shaking on it.

"I know, right?" said Grump McGrunty. "Much better than writing a paper or something. You kids are getting off easy!" said the midget clown smiling for the first time. With a wave, he and his brother departed out the door.

"A paper would be much easier," Helga groused.

"Oh, come on, Helga," said Arnold smiling lightly. "You've got a whole week to practice. I'll bet you can learn to juggle two pins in a single day."

"Humph!" said Helga. "You didn't have to go volunteering us to go visit their creepy clown circus!"

"It'd be rude not to, Helga," said Arnold catching her arm behind the shoulder and steering Helga along. He'd figured out a while ago, that like a mule, she begged to be nudged by touch and not mere words. As soon as he gave her a shove in the right direction, she ambled amiably along, back in the direction of their classroom. And like a mule, she wandered off to be distracted by the water fountain. Helga dipped her head down to take a long sip.

"It will all work out fine, Helga. You'll see!" Arnold promised as Helga lifted her head up, wiping the water off her lips with the back of her hand.

"I hope you're right about that," said Helga before they made their way back to the classroom.

The next day, Helga found herself disembarking the subway in the middle of nowhere again. Only this time, it was beside Arnold and not Harold. Sensibly, Arnold had a subway map in hand, as well as proper subway fare. He looked up from the map that had hid his face for a moment and across the dusty dirt lane beyond the station. Unmown grass lined the road on either side.

"Well, this should be the right station," Arnold mused. He was uncertain. But Helga had been here before. She snatched Arnold's hand in her own and dragged him along.

"It's this way!" Helga said marching forward with absolute certainty. She dropped Arnold's hand as soon as the resistance behind her halted. The two paced down the road at a power walk, side by side but a few feet's distance from one another. After all, they were still two, proud individuals and not a true couple. That time had not yet come.

"There it is!" said Helga pointing ahead. She suppressed a shudder. A wooden signboard reading "McGrunty's Circus" was at the side of the road. A circle of tents, almost like a medieval war encampment, was just ahead.

"Well, Helga old girl!" said Helga speaking to herself as she mustered her courage. "This is as ready as you'll ever be!" Helga steeled her eyes and stamped forward to face the music. Arnold walked beside her. As they rounded the bend into the circle of tents and the first of the clowns spotted Helga, her bravado popped like a balloon.

"Eep!" Helga uttered in fright. She took a step backwards and looped her arm with a startled Arnold's before flashing him an apologetic grin. The bearded lady stepped closer. Then closer. Then she was near. Dum, dum, dum!

See you next chapter. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Helga wanted to scream. It was like a sci-fi mutant had escaped the confines of her comic book collection and leered, step by step, towards her. With long brown whiskers and beard, the circus performer came almost near enough to Helga to grab her. Helga stood still, frozen with fear and grasping Arnold's arm in her clutch. She sank several inches lower behind Arnold's stout biceps and like women do, both flatteringly and cruelly used Arnold for a meat shield between her and the sight that terrified her. Helga kept her teeth grit. But she gasped as the bearded lady spoke her name.

"Helga and Arnold, right?" said the bearded lady in a voice that was elegant. "The brat who stole my bike and her friend?"

"Yeah, that's us," said Arnold. "Are you the bearded lady?" Arnold asked with a touch of... admiration?!

"Yeah? What's it to you, kid?" the bearded lady asked. Arnold grinned.

"Can I get your autograph?" said Arnold stepping forward out of Helga's grasp so that she fell forward. "My Grandpa's told me all about you!"

"Well, I'm only one of the bearded ladies," the performer corrected while signing a circus flyer with a pen. "It's a professional position, like secretary or dental hygienist."

"Traitor," Helga muttered from where she had fallen face-forward on the ground. She got up enough to lean, her face supported by one hand. Incredulous, she paused to collect herself before scrambling up to her feet.

"Hey, Arnoldo!" said Helga jabbing Arnold from behind with her finger between his shoulderblades. The boy was entirely too comfortable chatting with these circus weirdos for her liking. "Don't forget we're here on business! Not fan adulation."

"Sorry," said Arnold rapidly. He tucked the signed flyer into his pocket.

"And please tell me you're not into women with beards," said Helga rolling her eyes.

"I'm not," Arnold said calmly. "It's just that my Grandpa got an audition for the bearded lady once. Only it was obvious he was a man wearing a dress so he didn't get the job. But he got to clean elephant cages!" said Arnold holding a finger up with enthusiasm almost like his Grandpa Phil.

"Right," said Helga in the frame of mind that just wanted to forget the whole conversation. "So where are Snooty 'n Grump?"

"Right over here, little lady!" came the voice of Grump McGrunty as he walked out of one of the medieval-style circus tents. "Ready for the best tour of your life?"

"Yeah, sure! I'll just go get my suitcase so we can jet off to Europe," said Helga.

"Hardy-har-har," said Grump McGrunty. "Your girlfriend here is a performer in her own way, huh?"

"Uh, she's not my girlfriend," said Arnold, flustered. "She's just a friend." At his side, Helga was not angry, but she was shifty-eyed. After all, it was her intent to dig her claims in on him as deep as she could.

"Sure. Sure," said McGrunty with much the same disbelief that Gerald used when Arnold assured him that he and Helga were up to nothing romantic. "Well newbies, come on in! I'll introduce you to some of the other performers!" McGrunty lifted up a tent flap and motioned for them to duck inside.

"This here is our stilt-walker, Jeff," Grump said gesturing toward a tall man on even taller stilts. There was an enormous, bulky giant behind him.

"And this is our strong man, Beat O. Hymn." Arnold cracked a nervous grin. He offered a handshake and was grateful when the strongman used only one of his little fingers to handshake with.

"These are Mick and Clerk, our tightrope walkers," said McGrunty introducing a skinny man in a leotard and a woman with a long brown ponytail in a matching suit. They both sat on either side of a rope that was raised ten feet off the ground, strung between poles.

"Hi there!" said the woman, Clerk. Arnold gazed up at the tightrope cable with wondering eyes.

"Wow," he coughed. "Can you really walk on that rope? It seems awful thin." The two trapeze artists gave each other an amused look.

"We can do more that that!" said Clerk before doing a handstand on the thin wire. Her companion did a backflip and nimbly landed on the rope. "Tada!"

"What are you so excited for?" said Helga slanting an appraising eye toward Arnold. "It's just a handstand."

"Yeah, but the wire is really thin. It must be hard not to miss. Plus, well, my Grandpa's told me some stories."

"Stories? About what?" asked Helga, curious.

"Well, I'm not sure if a word of it is true or not. But Grandpa used to tell me that my parents could do something like that. It kind of was my inspiration for me to climb on top of the stairway rails all the time when I was little. I really did believe all the stories my Grandpa told me back then. Now, I'm not so sure."

"Why not?" asked Helga, staring at Arnold. It wasn't often that he hinted at his missing parents at all.

"Well, I realize it could have all been made up to amuse me," said Arnold. "That's just something he does. But Grandpa really did show me how to juggle. And I believe him about having to clean out elephant cages."

"Yuck!" said Helga. "Well, hopefully, you never have to do a thing like that, Arnoldo." Helga grimaced. But Arnold's attention was still on the tightrope.

"Do you think I could give it a try?" said Arnold almost as if he were admiring a desirable piece of candy rather than a bit circus equipment. Mike and Clerk looked at one another, trying to find an answer. But Grump McGrunty answered the question for him.

"Well, we could start you off on something lower, rookie."

"Really?" Arnold grinned. Helga rolled her eyes. Their side trip was going to be a long one. She could tell.

"At least one of us is enjoying themselves," she muttered. But she watched as Arnold hung out with his newfound circus 'pals', smiling and laughing with the bunch of them, despite how strange as they looked. Helga leaned one hand against a stout tent pole and watched until Arnold was done. As usual, she didn't feel much like participating, content instead to let the words trickle down to her from afar. But Arnold and the clowns were not content to let her be in her corner.

"Come on, Helga!" said Arnold, coaxing her to join them. "You give it a try!" Helga's eyes bugged out. The last thing she needed to do as far as she was concerned, was embarrass herself in front of strangers by failing utterly to do anything but fall over. Yet, Helga walked forward and shaking off her annoyance, poised herself at the start of a tight-walk rope. This one was a bright yellow. It was was at least twice as large as the thin steel one the professionals used. Helpfully, it was set near enough to the ground that she could step off it easily without breaking an ankle.

Helga set one foot on the rope. Then she tried to set her second foot on the rope but she had stepped too hard. The bright yellow rope wiggled back and forth and Helga found herself tipping backwards instead of standing straight up. Waving her hands around wildly, Helga hopped off the rope to find the solidness of the ground.

"That was a good try," said Arnold, praising Helga mildly. But to the girl impoverished for compliments, even a mild one made her heart soar and beat hard.

"Well, you didn't have much more luck, either," Helga fussed, trying to deny the compliment and halt the dizzying effect it had on her. She stepped on the rope again, more softly this time, and made it a few steps across but not quite halfway.

"Well, I'm done," said Helga, bored. "It's not like I'm making this my career choice anyway. Do we go on with the tour?"

"Let's have you kids see our big tent!" McGrunty said proudly. "It's no big top or anything, but we're proud of it. We have all the best acts that can have in a small space. For example, that trunk over there belongs to Marty the Magician."

"So where's Marty?" Snooty asked Grump.

"Vanished again," said Grump with a shrug. "That magician is always disappearing. Doesn't like kids too much."

"Aw, that's too bad," said Arnold. "I would have liked to meet a real magician."

"Well, drop by again some time for our show, kid," said McGrunty. "And better yet, bring your friends with you!"

"Hey, what's that?" Helga interrupted pointing. She had spotted a giant dartboard with tiny daggers sticking out of it. With a smile, she went closer to inspect it.

"Oh, that's for our final act. Dead-Aim Daron the Dart Thrower!" A tall, skinny man in a long black cape and narrow top hat bowed silently before Helga. She studied the board some more.

"Oh, so this is where your strap someone to the board and throw daggers at them trying to miss but scare the crap out the the audience?" Helga asked, grinning.

"Well no. The insurance for an act like that would be like a million dollars! Definitely not within the means of small little outfit like ours." Grump McGrunty explained.

"Mind if I give it a whirl?" asked Helga, not waiting for a reply. She had already pried a handful of daggers from the dart board. After exhaling her breath, Helga snapped her body and hands forward to release six daggers to strike the board. In conjunction with the ones already on the dartboard, they made a connect-the-dot pattern that was eerily like the outline of a certain football-headed blond boy. Arnold swallowed hard.

"Hey, not bad!" said McGrunty with some surprise. "You've got some talent!"

"Gulp," said Arnold staring at the outline of himself with fear. "Uh, that's really great Helga! Only I don't think I like circus acts like that. Now or ever."

"Oh don't worry about it so much," said Helga dusting her hands off and grinning a smug grin that made Arnold all the more nervous. "It's not like I was aiming at you or anything. At least not the real thing."

"Right," said Arnold forcing himself to turn away from the dart-made outline that resembled himself. "I think I'm going to get a look. From up there," said the boy clambering up a ladder to a small tower that was poised in the very center of the tent. It led out to a swing bar set no higher than the monkey bars at school.

"Hey, hey! Kids be careful up there!" said Grump McGrunty as Helga unhooked the swing bar from its place and swung with it across the room, back and forth like a pendulum until it stopped, out of energy.

"Whee! You've got to try this!" she said enthused

"Can I?" Arnold asked the circus clown, Grump McGrunty.

"Well, okay," said Grump McGrunty breaking down. "Do you need help getting down, little lady?" The circus clown lifted his stout arms up above his head as if to catch her. Helga tensed.

"No, no, no! I don't!" Helga flustered. "Shoo! I can do it myself!" Kicking out her foot, Helga paused until the clown had moved a bit away before hooking her heels up onto the bar and using it to tumble down to the ground from a baby-drop roll such as is learned on the school playground by kids who like to misuse monkeybars. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Helga brushed the imaginary dirt off her sleeve. Her eyebrow furrowed angrily.

"Well, if that's it, I think this tour's done," said Helga moodily. She kept her back facing both Arnold and the midget clown brothers.

"Helga, why are you in such a hurry to go?" Arnold pleaded for reason. "We've got all afternoon! And I…"

"You have nothing better to do!" Helga interrupted the boy before he could continue his line of thinking. Because he was right, but Helga refused to let him be. "I don't want to dwaddle the whole afternoon away at some midget circus."

"Helga, you were enjoying yourself up to a minute ago. Helga?" asked Arnold as the girl stomped away.

At the edge of the midget circus, Helga looked back over her shoulder. Remorse filled her. Half of her wanted Arnold to come and find her, berate her, and bring her back into the fold. But the other half just wanted to shirk and hide away from everyone and it was this second half that won over her. After all, it was too late now, Helga rationalized. She had already acted horribly in front of everyone and made them hate her. If Arnold was angry, too, she could not blame him for that either. For a second Helga mused on the thought of going back to the circus and apologizing for being so rude. It was what Arnold would have wanted. But the tight-woven knit of people who cared genuinely about each other had pressed too close, much too close to her heart and she had needed to elude them by whatever means necessary.

By offering to help, they had shown to Helga a human, compassionate side. But humanity begs humanity in return. The McGrunty Brothers and all their fellow circus folk were strangers to Helga and that is how she wished for it to remain. Strangers and not friends. People she could give not a damn about and from whom she would accept no judgement, good or otherwise. Like a soldier who forces himself to see the enemy as merely the enemy, mere targets without a shred of humanity, Helga forced them back into the role of passers by in her life with a vicious shove. She didn't want anyone getting cozy with her unless they meant it. Unless it was real and would last. The last thing she needed was vulnerability, and so Helga hid her emotions back inside herself like a turtle withdrawing its head into its shell. Then the fog of rage and fear receded at last, leaving Helga with a sky that was blue and brilliant.

It had rained slightly while they had been tarrying inside the tents. The last few days had rained on and off, too, and so there was a giant puddle sitting in the low of the road. Helga wandered closer to it to gaze down at her own reflection, her shoes looking unusually large and herself skinny. Her reflection wore a dismal look she did not like. But there was little she could do about it. Unless...

Helga looked down at the puddle again. Then she lifted her hands up above herself in a ballet pose. Helga stepped deep into the puddle and began a series of pirouettes. Water droplets rained all around her in a shower cascade, winking like diamonds in the sunlight. Around her, the puddle's surface jostled with small waves which settled into gently throbbing rings, as perfectly placed as a melody. The rhythm in the puddle slowed to gentle ripples where Helga now stepped, one foot then another widely placed, so that the number of rings in the puddle became three, gently folding and pressing against one another, a patch of trembling water in its very center. At the puddle's edge creases lapped against the sandy earth of the road to disappear. As Helga slowed her sloshy dance, she lifted her head to spot Arnold silently watching her.

"What are you doing?" said the boy, his voice and face as devoid of emotion as a white-painted wall. He simply observed and in this moment Helga felt no need for defense. She answered with open honesty.

"Splashing," said Helga jumping up and down in the puddle to demonstrate. It didn't matter that her method of splashing involved dancing as well. Splashing was splashing.

"Aren't your feet wet?" Arnold observed humbly before veering into his concern mode. "You're going to catch a cold if you go around wearing wet shoes!"

"Oh, Arnold!" said Helga shaking her head softly but smiling. "You say that just like everyone else does. But you know what? Everyone just doesn't know what they're missing! Sure maybe my feet will be a little wet. Maybe there's a little chance I might get a cold and I know that my feet will be uncomfortable until I can change my shoes. But you know what? It's worth it. It's worth the risk of getting a little thing like a cold! Just look at what a puddle can do, Arnold! Look at its potential!" Helga resumed her puddle dance again, albeit slowly now, then stopped to lay her arms out, palms up.

"See?" said Helga looking at the ripples. "It's like a miniature ocean. Most people miss out on this kind of beauty every day because they worry about a little thing like getting their feet wet. It's also kind of like the universe. If I act, there's a reaction. It's push and pull! If I don't act, then nothing ever happens and the puddle is silent," said Helga removing her feet from the puddle. The two kids watched the surface of the waters still, almost as Helga had never stepped in it all all except for the clouded edges of mud settling in her footprints.

"Why do you do that?" Arnold asked breaking the silence suddenly.

"Huh? Do what?" Helga said, answering the question with yet another question.

"Well, you don't mind taking chances with objects or even yourself. You're fearless, even reckless with yourself sometimes. You didn't bat an eye about sliding down the side of a multistory office building on a rope. But when it comes to people, well, you just never give them a chance, Helga. Why do you do that Helga? Why do you never let someone help you when you need help? Why won't you let anyone know how you think? Why do you always have to keep everything secret?"

"Huh?" said Helga jolting. "Those are funny questions Football-Head! But I guess the answer is I don't trust people. If I rely on other people, I'm just going to be disappointed. Or hurt."

"Well, maybe you are sometimes," said Arnold, his eyes looking a little cross. "People hurt. But if you never get your feet wet, you'll never find out all the good things about people, either."

"Arnold…" Helga gaped. She looked down at the surface of the puddle lain out before her feet, its surface now grown blank and silent. "I…"

"Never mind," said Arnold sensing he had gone too far and really upset Helga. "I shouldn't have said anything." Helga was upset as Arnold had guessed, but those were not the words she spoke out loud.

"No, it's alright Arnold. I… I need to think," said Helga. "You make a valid point, I guess."

"So you're not mad?" blinked Arnold like it was his lucky day. "You seemed really angry when you left the circus."

"Nah!" said Helga taking her shoes off to dump some of the water out of them. "Just flustered. So, shall we get out of here?"

"Yeah," said Arnold. "Do you want me to walk you home?"

"Nah," said Helga looking at the afternoon sky. "So long as we make it back to Hillwood, I'll be fine. But thanks."

"I really don't mind walking you home," Arnold pressed. Helga stiffened her shoulders, then relaxed them at last. Once more, whether by accident or not, he had forced his way through her ruse.

"Well, if it really makes you happy, Football-Head," said Helga smiling weakly.

"Will you stop calling me that?" Arnold groused.

"Okay, okay, fine! Ar-nold-o," said Helga rounding the syllables out slowly.

"Thank you!" said Arnold. The gentle back and forth continued as they paid their fare for the subway and boarded the train for Hillwood.

The next day, Arnold came into the classroom bright and early, a book to read in his hand. But what he did not expect to see was Helga standing on top of Mr. Simmon's desk staring down as if prepared to jump.

"Helga? What are you doing?" asked Arnold as he dropped his book and hurried forward. His friend was acting weird.

"Trust fall!" said Helga. "Come on Arnold, don't let me down!" said Helga leaping down from the desk to collide with Arnold. The boy curled his hands around Helga's back and stumbled backwards himself to sit down in one of the school desk chairs, hard. He winced from the impact against the desk, and also because Helga was now seated on top of him, her arms curled around his neck.

"Helga? What's gotten into you?" Arnold sputtered because Helga had launched herself at him like a crouching tiger. From his collision with the chair, he also felt slightly slain.

"Arnold, you're right," said Helga her arms still looped around his neck. "Whether or not I end up staying friends with you, I need to know what it is like to be human. I need to know that other people feel, too. If I never trust anyone, I'll never know either of these things. And so I've chosen you. To trust."

"Me? Why me?

"Well, I dunno!" said Helga with a touch of awkwardness. "Baby steps, Arnold. You can't expect me to love the whole world like skittles all at once."

"I guess that makes sense," said Arnold. "Now do you mind getting off? It's kind of uncomfortable. Plus," Arnold began before his best friend Gerald walked through the door. Gerald stared at the two of them in shock. Arnold paled.

"Um, hi Gerald," Arnold said forcing a lopsided grin onto his face. "Helga and I were just practicing our circus routine," said the blond-haired boy. Helga quickly slid off his lap and backed away, her arms folded across her front.

"Sure, sure," said Gerald ignoring the two of them and going to sit down at his school desk. He watched Arnold get up and move to his usual chair, his eyes disapproving. Both Helga and Arnold sat down at their usual desks, eyes pivoted away from each other towards the ceiling and their faces beet red.

"Um, so do you wanna drop by the circus again tomorrow? We need to pick out some costumes for our routine," said Arnold screwing his eyes firmly onto the surface of the desk and not the girl he had been caught being smothered in public by.

"Costumes?" Helga almost yelped. "What do ya mean costumes?" Her wide, dark unibrow folded sideways as she dared to imagine what Arnold and his new circus friends had in store.

The day of the career fair dawned bright and sunny without the faintest touch of rain. Inside the building, the halls between classrooms were lined with tables. Rhonda's table had a red tablecloth, plastic champagne glasses full of of punch, and a silver platter full of chocolate bonbons. She had dressed up in a black and white chef's uniform for the occasion with a little round, red chef's cap.

"Try a sample!" the girl would say smiling while offering a tiny sliver of chocolate on a wooden toothpick. Peapod Kid examined one of her price signs with a frown.

Phoebe was offering some kind of accounting service. Lila sat at a table full of baked rolls and a blue plaid table cloth. Gerald was serving twelve kinds of tea and biscotti beside the smiling, coffee-bean enthused blond proprietor of the local coffee shop. Curly was flipping origami frogs off his table into the hallway with a grin and showing hapless slow-walkers all the different styles of pencils he had found at the local stationary store. Stinky was handing out paper hats he had made out of newspaper. Harold was selling clay figures that all looked like things to eat. Sheena was offering paintings of flowers. Sid was doing a photo booth with a polaroid camera. Students posed on a stool before a fake background and grinned wearing their choice of a weird hat, such as an arrow that looks like it is going through the head or a hot dog.

Last but not least, the doors to the school playground had been propped open. On one side of it, Eugene was tap dancing to put on a show. A hat empty except for a few nickels lay at his feet. On the other side of it was an area of the blacktop colored with bright chalk and fenced off by cones. Beside it was a little sign that read, "showtime 1:30 pm." Mr Simmons checked his watch.

"One twenty-nine," the teacher mumbled looking at his watch. "Helga and Arnold's act should be here any minute. But where are they?" The school teacher craned his head around. Then Grump McGrunty strutted up onto the colorful chalk circle and lifted a megaphone to his lips.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention, PLEASE! Circus P.S. 118 is about to begin! And now, for the pleasure of all you adolescent, irascible youth, I give you The Golden-Haired Juggler and the Floating Fairy!" Grump McGrunty bowed as taped music switched on. He lifted a confetti popper up into the air and paused with it, grinning, for a small red and orange clown car to whirl up. Helga climbed out of it, wearing a pink tutu and fake, glittering silver fairy wings. She also wore a red rubber clown nose on her face and a really pissed off, annoyed look. As Grump McGrunty showered her with confetti from his confetti popper, she whipped off the fake rubber nose and tossed it far away from her.

"Let's do this thing," said Helga moving away from the cramped car so that Arnold and Snoot McGrunty could get out. Music still playing, Helga tiptoed to the center of the chalk and began to juggle two hand clubs slowly, but carefully. As planned, Arnold walked in a circle around Helga still juggling. Snooty McGrunty then exchanged Helga's hand clubs for a ribbon streamer. Helga did the splits again, waving, then wriggling the streamer above her head. Meanwhile, Grump McGrunty stood up on his brother's shoulders and began to juggle. For half a minute, Arnold and Grump McGrunty passed their juggling act over Helga's head. Phoebe gasped and Gerald pointed, for such an act was something they never would have expected from their best friends. But the show wasn't over yet.

"And now!" said Grump McGrunty taking up his megaphone again. "For our final act, the Floating Faerie will soar!" Snoot McGrunty pushed a large, colorful box into the performance circle. Helga climbed up on the box.

"You'd better not let me down, Arnoldo!" she griped softly making a fist. "Or I may have to punch you!"

"I'll catch you, Helga," said Arnold, his face awfully tranquil for someone who had just been threatened. He was almost smug. "I promise."

"Alright," Helga breathed out, steeling herself. As promised and practiced, Helga threw herself sideways off the box to be caught by Arnold and the two midget clowns. With a dreamy expression on her face, Helga was lifted down onto her feet.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen," said McGrunty speaking into the megaphone. "To close, the Floating Faerie will read a poem!"

"Ahem!" said Helga taking the megaphone from the midget clown. Her fake silver wings stood out behind her. "This poem is for Mr. Simmons." The school teacher mentioned bit his bottom lip in eager anticipation.

"It's haiku," said Helga, The Floating Faerie. "Melody scales sing/ while four strings bowed tremble to/ stir the inner soul." Helga curtsied neatly. McGrunty led the audience in a round of applause. Mr. Simmons cheered loudest of all.

"That was magnificent, Helga!" said Mr. Simmons, beaming. "I'm so proud of you! And I can't thank you, Mr. McGrunty, and your brother enough. Or you, Arnold! I can honestly say you've earned your B for participation in our class, Helga."

"Yeah, yeah," said Helga folding her arms together. "I'll keep you to your word come score time."

"Well," said McGrunty offering Helga and Arnold both a handshake. "I guess that was our first and last show together for now. It turned out pretty good. But who knows. Maybe you two will take up circus work as a profession someday!"

"I don't think so," said Helga with slanted eyes. But she shook Grump McGrunty's hand, smiling.

"Well me and my brother better be getting back to our real job. The show must go on, you know! Take care of yourself kids. And keep out of trouble!"

"We will!" Arnold promised smiling as the two midget clowns packed their supplies into the clown car and drove away, waving and honking. Two midget clowns in a clown car was a very odd sight that had come to their school, and one Arnold and Helga did not anticipate seeing again. But somehow, they both would walk away with warm memories of all this.

"So," said Arnold walking back to the classroom and settling himself into his desk. "The show's all over! I think it was pretty neat."

"Oh, it's not ALL over," said Helga with a touch of nervousness. But it was hopeful pride that fluttered across her face. "Open your desk. There's one act left. For your eyes only." Arnold propped open his desk. Inside it he found a pure white rose and wrapped around its stem was a sheet of paper, tightly curled and sealed shut with a piece of tape.

"What's this?" asked Arnold. Helga grew more nervous.

"Well, you made me promise to show you one of my poems one day. So, I'm letting you read one. Just one, mind you. I don't want you thinking I'm all sappy. It's a sonnet. It's disgusting enough, but it's better than most of the drivel I've written, I guess," Helga ended. She tensed as Arnold unrolled the rolled up paper sheet to read silently.

"When life is, trial borne, fairytale believed,

A darkened hearth, grim with loss and liars

It is a comfort in one's grief, received

Most humbly to sit beside the fires

Of good. Your gentle presence, it smoulders

Like torches, it breaks darkness into light

Afflicting evil as roots to boulders.

Vitality sends all that's ill to flight.

And thus I sigh, glorying football heads

Snatching moments to kindle my delight.

Kissing your photo kept beside my bed

Basking in saintly glow eroding night.

Ever, my love, remain the steadfast blue

Of heavens, your rare purity kept true."

A warm, smitten smile broke out across Arnold's face and he leant one hand on his desk and put his chin into it.

"Much better than the haiku," said Arnold. "I don't know much about poetry. But personally, I think you're a good poet. Maybe great even! Thanks a lot Helga. I'll treasure it."

"Alright class!" said Mr. Simmons interrupting their whispering. "Listening ears! We have a quiz next Tuesday! Then mid-quarter exams so I recommend doing the problems on the blackboard to review for the test!" Mr. Simmons used a wooden pointer to gesture to all the page and question numbers he had written in white chalk on the blackboard, which pretty much covered up the whole thing. Everyone let their hands sag at their sides and groaned. The collective wail could be heard from outside the walls of P.S. 118.

Helga took up her pencil and began jotting down the recommended problems in her notebook. Grown weary of copying, Helga lifted her head to stare at Arnold. But as she admired him, the boy turned his head completely around. He smiled and winked knowingly at his not-so-secret admirer. Helga grit her teeth. She bowed her head back down to her desk and her copying. But a dreamy smile worked its way back onto her lips. In that moment, she definitely did feel like a floating fairie. The end.


End file.
